


and i'll be waiting for the light (that guides us through the worst of nights)

by thispapermoon



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: Bad Science Jokes, Comfort, F/F, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Nightmares, Sweetness, i love these two nerdy lil scientists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 15:25:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13929906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thispapermoon/pseuds/thispapermoon
Summary: She plays with fire for a living. It’s what she does. She dances with blowtorches and tightrope walks the line between invention and nuclear disaster. She flirts with women and brings none of them home.Always too close to the flame, Holtz.Everything around her is always so hot, so very hot. And Erin, well, she is brighter than the sun.And hearts aren’t made to withstand 6,000 k temperatures.****Holtzmann hears Erin having night terrors but doesn't know how to comfort her. Erin has a lot on her mind but doesn't know how to express how she feels.Good thing they're both fast learners.





	and i'll be waiting for the light (that guides us through the worst of nights)

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this fic over a year and a half ago and then just stewed on it for ages because I didn't publicly post fiction until recently. But I've read a ton of Holtzbert that gave me absolute life, so thanks everyone who writes and reads them because <3\. You guys are an amazing fandom. 
> 
> I have to say, I probably the most fun I've ever had writing with this fic. They just make me so happy. 
> 
> Title is from Off to Sleep by Coeur de Pirate

The first time Holtzmann hears Erin having a night terror she’s just come from the shower, tousled curls damping the shoulders of the X-Files t-shirt she wears as pajamas.

Tonight the firehouse is unusually quiet, given its general tendency towards congenial hubbub and, admittedly, the occasional explosion. But the hour is late and all is sleepy-silent. It’s been hours since the others must have headed up to bed, but she’d lost herself in a design that that hopefully would prolong the charge of their proton packs and the night had slid away from her. As usual.

Checking her watch reveals that the big hand is on the twelve and the smaller hand just past the four, and she yawns as she trudges down the hall to her room.

Passing Erin's door she yawns again, then jumps as a shriek splits the firehouse's quiet calm.

_Step 1: Formulate the hypothesis. Does yawning now suddenly produce involuntary screams?_

_Step 2: Test the hypothesis by repeated experimentation._

She pauses and yawns. And listens. Nothing. She yawns partway, freezing with her mouth open, cocking her head to one side.

_Hypothesis rejected._

However, there is a whimpering from behind Erin's door, followed by a shout of fear and another scream. Holtzmann snaps her mouth shut.

_Erin._

She doesn’t think. How can she think. Not when Erin’s in distress. She just reacts, feet slamming against the metal stairs of the firehouse steps as she races down to the level below and drags a very bleary-eyed Abby from her bed. Kind, patient, Abby. Who always knows what to say and how to calm. Abby doesn’t protest too much as Holtz hauls her out from under the covers and back up the stairs by her wrist, perhaps because she’s still half-asleep.

It’s not until they’re halfway up the stairs that Holtz is able to choke out the words “ _Erin”_ and " _trouble_ ,” and then Abby’s snap-to into consciousness leaves Holtzmann trotting to keep up with her as they reach the upper hall.

Abby knocks softly on Erin’s door, a slight frown causing her forehead to crinkle. Heart thumping, Holtz hovers just behind her, practically treading on her heels and Abby quirks an eyebrow at her. But then the scream comes again, more panicked and terror filled before, and Abby throws the door open so hard it bounces against the wall, flips on the light, and in an instant is by Erin’s side shaking her awake.

“Erin, it’s okay, sweetheart, wake up now. You’re having a nightmare. It’s just a dream. Come on, there we go.”

Holtz watches cautiously from the doorway as a flailing, sweat-soaked Erin snaps awake and sobs out the details of her nightmare into Abby’s arms: childhood ghost, Rowan, end of the world, dead Abby, dead Patty, dead Holtz.

Abby makes eye contact with Holtz over Erin’s shaking shoulders as she strokes her hair, jerking her head to communicate she should feel welcome join her in comforting Erin.

It’s moments like this that Holtz wishes she could process emotions with the same speed and accuracy of an equation, and it’s all she can do not take flight, not locate some place enclosed and quiet where she can untangle everything she feels.

So she shakes her head at Abby, damp curls tumbling everywhere, and lurks in the doorway, twisting the bottom edge end of her t-shirt around a finger.

It’s not until Patty comes padding down the hall towards her in carpet slippers that she is able to unstick herself and shuffle to the side enough to allow Patty to peer around the edge of the doorframe.

“Damn, these nightmares are going to give you wrinkles, honey. Ghosts and nightmares, that’s what Patty’s good at bustin’. We gotta get you calmed down now. That’s right, we’re going to fix this situation, and this situation calls for some warm milk.”

She’s gone again in a swish of satin bathrobe. Erin finally pulls away from Abby, drawing shaky breaths. She wipes her eyes and notices Holtz hovering just outside the door.

Their eyes meet.

“Hey, Holtz.”

Erin’s smile is small, and rather watery, but it is so beautiful that Holtzmann swears she can feel it right down in a warm and tingly place inside her. She shifts her weight from foot to foot and bites her lip, internally scrambling to regain her confidence, her swagger, her armor of a well placed pickup line with which to mask her emotions and, hopefully, keep that smile on Erin’s face.

But she’s rattled, her thoughts ricocheting around inside of her, like the discharge from her latest proton shotgun when she tested it earlier in the back alley. Because Erin is beautiful, with her tear streaked cheeks and sleep tousled hair. With the buttons of her her pale blue pajama top all askew and her intense vulnerability as she leans her head against Abby’s shoulder and reaches out a hand to beckon Holtzmann over to the bed.

“Come here.”

It’s gentle, more question than instruction, and it’s that more than anything that allows Holtzmann’s knees to unlock enough for her to move slowly into the room.

“That’s right,” nods Abby, “everyone up here on the bed. Von Trapp style, just like that. We gotta comfort our girl you know.”

“Even those of us who aren’t wearing pants,” says Erin with a lift of an eyebrow.

Holtz pauses at the edge of the bed and tugs the X-Files shirt down a little farther over her plain black underwear, uncharacteristically self conscious.

Abby laughs and scoots to sit cross legged in the middle of the bed and Erin shifts, pushing back the covers and scootching over so that Holtz suddenly finds herself sliding under the sheets to settle against the headboard and, _oh god_ , Erin’s side.

And suddenly it’s all so much. All the fear and panic and concern for Erin that she cannot, dares not, channel into verbal expression flooding over her and tightening in her chest like a fist around her heart. She ducks her head and presses her forehead firmly into the side of Erin’s shoulder, seeking comfort and trying to give it as best as she knows how.

“Awww, there now Holtz.” Abby leans forward and pats her knee, a warm smile in her voice.

But it’s Erin’s touch that grounds her, slim fingers slipping over her now fairly tangled hair, brushing it out of her face just enough that she is able to watch Erin out of the corner of her eye.

Holtz peeks up at Erin. She’s running her fingers through Holtzmann’s hair with a look of consideration on her face, but her eyes remain trained on her hands and she spools up one of Holtz’s damp curls and let’s it corkscrew around her finger.

“I used to get nightmares a lot, you know. But not anymore. Not usually.”

She releases the curl and watches it bounce back into place. Her eyes slide down to meet Holtzmann’s, a small smile ghosting across her face.

“I’m going to be ok. It’s just a silly thing that happens sometimes.”

“Not silly.” Whispers Holtz, and Erin’s lips quirk up again, parting slightly as she studies Holtzmann’s face.

“Maybe.”

Abby crawls up and learns against Erin’s other side until she and Holtz have her encased, which is how Patty finds them when she returns with a steaming teapot of warm milk and plate of windmill cookie - cookie’s which are most definitely Erin’s secret favorite. They all take turns buying them for her, since she won’t buy them herself, but she ends up eating most of them whenever they’re in the pantry, before blaming it on Kevin.

They munch on the cookies and sip warm milk in silence with Patty sprawled out across the foot of the bed. Soon enough they’re all sighing, relaxed and warm.

“A-a-all right,” Abby stutters through a yawn as she drags herself off the bed. “I th-th-think we’re good here.” She brushes cookie crumbs off her cheeks and bends down to kiss the top of Erin’s head. “Call me if you need me, you know that. Anytime.” Erin nods and claps Abby’s hand briefly before leaning back against Holtz and the headboard.

“And I should get this long drink of water up before she truly goes to sleep across the middle of your bed and you end up having to sleep with your knees up to your chin.” Abby tugs on Patty’s arm and helps to pull her up off the mattress while Patty mumbles something about busting things that go bump in the night.

“Thank you for the milk, Patty. And the cookies!” Erin calls as Patty and Abby shuffle from the room yawning widely as they go.

They leave a deep quiet in their wake and Holtz tries to find the appropriate way to express that while she is sleepy, there is no place she would rather be than pressed snuggly against Erin’s side. Especially if it means that Erin is breathing slowly and evenly and not crying out from visions of terrible things.

But as Erin’s head slips further down Holtzmann’s shoulder and her eyelids flutter shut, she once again feels that tight hand clenching at her heart. She stills as still as she possibly can and allows herself a heartbeat. And then another. To imagine staying just like this. To imagine falling asleep with Erin curled into her side and waking in the sunlight with her arms around her, limbs tangled, bodies warm and languid.

Her breath catches as she guides Erin’s head down to the pillows with trembling fingers and scoots to the edge of the bed. It’s love she realizes. Realizes for probably the thousandth time since Erin marched into her and Abby’s lab with a tiny bow tie and an agenda.

She can force herself to forget when they’re busting, or when she’s involved in a dangerous and volatile experiment with a new weapon. But in these quiet, in-between moments? She looks down at Erin’s sleeping form and gently brushes Erin’s hair away from her face with just the very tips of her fingers.

_It’s too dangerous._

She plays with fire for a living. It’s what she does. She dances with blowtorches and tightrope walks the line between invention and nuclear disaster. She flirts with women and brings none of them home. _Always too close to the flame, Holtz._

Everything around her is always so hot, so very hot. And Erin, well, she is brighter than the sun. _And hearts aren’t made to withstand 6,000 k temperatures._

And as she looks down at Erin, noticing how her hands curl gently against the blankets in her sleep, how her lashes rest just so against her cheeks, how her breathing is soft and slow now, Holtz mind whirls.

She’s never been great at maintaining equilibrium. As her mother would have said, “ _A lack of emotional calibration.”_

It’s second nature, now, to pressurize her emotions so that they stay locked within the containment unit she’s built around her heart.

But when there is pressure, there is always the chance of aperture. Or explosions. Dancing to DeBarg. Hip thrusts and sly winks and suggestive innuendo. Radioactivity.

Erin’s lips on the containment unit. Erin and radiation. Erin warm and tingly. Erin.

The pressure on her heart seizes, and Holtz withdraws as though burned by the imprecise application of one of her soldering irons. With one last look down at the sleeping woman beneath her, she rises, flips off the light, and closes the door softly behind her.

**______**

Erin’s night terrors happen several more times over the next few months and each time Holtz, whose room is just next door, runs for Abby.

She thinks that if she can only observe enough, she can learn the proper way to communicate comfort. She watches how Abby wakes Erin gently, holds her tight, strokes her hair, murmurs reassurances to her.

She watches how Patty knows to make hot milk before even coming to check what the fuss is all about after being awakened by pounding feet on the stairs in middle of the night for the third time in a week.

For her part, Holtz makes sure they keep a constant stock of windmill cookies.

But it doesn’t stop the helplessness she feels when she hears Erin in pain.

Still, the moments they spend together in the wake of Erin’s nightmares are precious to Holtz. Curled up sleepily on the bed all together, she imagines that they are safe from all hurt, all fear.

So long as they have each other.

At least she doesn’t get as frozen up in the face of assisting in emotional comfort anymore. After the second time they all end up piled onto Erin’s bed in the wee hours of the morning, she is able to relax enough to drawl out some one-liners that manage to set everyone laughing, and one memorable time, cause milk to shoot out Abby’s nose.

And if she can make Erin laugh, watch her exhausted, red rimmed eyes scrunch shut as she leans into Holtz - helpless with laughter - well. That’s the only helpless way Holtz likes to see her.

**______**

It’s snowing. It’s snowing and the massive windows of the firehouse’s are the perfect place to sit and watch the swirling flakes catch the light of the street lamps below.

In claiming the second floor for her own, she hadn’t reckoned what a force of nature Patty could be when it came to negotiating.

Not that she was complaining, seeing as she’s curled up in a blanket in the large window seat that Patty has turned into a sort of alcove library up here.

Grand bookcases flank the window with an enormous, handsome cushion lining the ledge. Patty often reads there with Erin or Abby in the late afternoon, bathed in sunlight, the window seat large enough for them to each lean against the bookcases and stretch their legs out from either end without touching.

It’s secretly one of Holtzmann’s favorite places in the entire world.

She sips her hot chocolate and blinks sleepily out at the snow. It’s late, it’s always late, but it’s peaceful. Uncurling herself she stretches, deposits the blanket on the window seat and her mug on her workbench, before schlepping up the two flights to her room.

She changes into a tank that says “Particle physics gives me a HADRON” that Abby had given her for her last birthday, and shuffles down the hall to the bathroom.

She washes her face and brushes her teeth, frowning at herself in the mirror as the coldness of the cement  floor sinks into her feet.

On her way back to her room she slows a fraction as she passes Erin’s door. It’s force of habit now, even though she rarely hears anything to cause concern. Still, she likes to think of Erin curled up beneath her blankets just beyond the door, safe and still and peaceful. It makes Holtz feel, well, safe herself, she thinks.

She’s about to continue on her way when she does hear something. She pauses, listening hard. It’s faint, but grows louder.

_And it’s definitely Erin._

She’s about to bolt down the stair to get Abby when she’s rendered motionless by the sound of her name.

_“Holtz.”_

It rings through the night followed by a cry of pain that twists Holtz’s insides like the haul of a wrecked car.

“Holtz. Holtzmann!”

She turns and places her palms on Erin’s door.

_I’m here. I’m here, Erin. Please, it’s going to be ok._

The crying continues and Holtz finds her hand on the knob. Then Erin sobs her name again and Holtz’s galloping heart takes control and she swings the door open and stumbles into the darkness of Erin’s room.

It’s not until she’s bumping into the edge of Erin’s bed that she realizes that she’s forgotten to flip on the light and the door has swung shut behind her leaving her in darkness.

Squinting, she pauses while her eyes adjust to the gloom and the slight orange glow from the city beyond the window. Erin’s moving on the bed, thrashing, her cries drawn out, her breathing harsh.

Holtz balances a knee on the edge of the bed and bends over her, bringing her hands to Erin’s shoulders to hold her still, to calm her.

“Hey there, Erin. It’s me. It’s Holtz. It’s ok. It’s all going to be ok. You’re dreaming. It’s just a dream.”

She gingerly bends lower, bringing her arms around Erin’s shoulder blades to hold her closer.

“You can wake up now. Everything’s going to be ok. I’m right here. It’s ok -”

Her reassurances are cut short by Erin jolting awake in her arms. Her body jerks and arches off of the bed to meet Holtzman’s, arms flying up to wrap tightly around Holtzmann’s back and pull her flush against her as she cries out again. Holtz can feel every muscle in Erin’s body trembling against her. Until suddenly she falls limp in her arms.

There’s silence.

Then Erin is gasping, pushing Holtzmann back and trying to scramble away. Holtz over balances and tips over Erin’s prone form, throwing out an arm to brace herself so that her hands are planted firmly on either side of Erin’s head.

“Holtz, shit, _Holtz_. What are you doing in here?” Erin gasps.

“Night - um, nightmare.” Holtz offers, her confusion mounting as she tries to extract herself from her position over Erin. She succeeds and gropes for the switch on Erin’s bedside lamp which she blessedly manages to locate.

A dim light fills the space and Holtz frowns down at Erin.

“You were screaming in your sleep again. I thought - I thought…”

Erin’s pulls her sheet up to her chin looking very pained. Her hair is mussed. Her breathing is still heavy and her eyes are flicking around the room as though looking for an escape.

“Um. I - I just. I shouldn’t have -” Holtzmann gestures helplessly at the door, “I should have - I’m going to go get Abby.”

“No!” Erin grabs Holtzmann’s wrist and pulls her backwards so she’s once again balanced on the edge of the bed. The covers fall back and Holtz tries not to stare at the way Erin’s chest glistens with sweat and the way her tank top rides low and clings to her in ways that make Holtz swallow hard.

_This is not at all going well._

“No.” Says Erin, more softly this time. “I don’t - please don’t. _Shit._ ”

“Your nightmare,” Holtz chews her lip and stares wide eyed at Erin in concern. “Ghosts and death again? You wanna talk about it?”

Erin blinks at her.

“If you don’t, that’s cool too.”

“Holtz - ”

“I could - uh - I could make us some hot milk, well, no, I would probably burn down the firehouse, how ironic would that be? “

“Holtz-”

“But cookies. I can get the cookies. Or not. If you just - if you just...want to talk.”

“Holtzmann!”

“Hmm? Are we talking now?”

Erin’s hand is still wrapped around her wrist and she tugs on it gently until it’s in her lap, cradled in between her own hands. She rolls her eyes up to the ceiling, sighs, blows her bangs out her face before looking down to study Holtzmann’s fingers between her own.

“I wasn’t having a nightmare.”

“But you - you were crying - and you sounded - you needed -”

“Holtzmann. I wasn’t having a nightmare.”

Holtz frowns at her, confused.

“But you-”

“I was...having...a dream.”

“A dream?”

“Yes.”

“A drea-? Oh. _Oh.”_

Holtz isn’t sure whose face is more accurately depicting the fiery colors of a sunset, but she sure as hell thinks she must be giving Erin a run for her money.

She wretches her hand out of Erin’s grasp.

“Kevin?”

“Wha-- no. No! Ew. How could you think Kevin, Jesus, Holtzmann!”

“Well, who else would it be? You stare at him all the time. You try to dance with him. You _like_ him.”

Holtz is on her feet, pacing beside the bed.

“Kevin - Kevin was a 30 second crush, _months_ ago. You never noticed. You never see. God, I’m so embarrassed. I completely understand you don’t feel the same way, but now you had to see” she gestures to the bed around her “ _this._ And you don’t even feel the same way. And- and - _shit!_ _i_ ”

Erin buries her face in her hands.

Holtzmann abruptly comes to a halt. “Three.”

“Three? Three -- what?”

“Times you’ve cursed. You never curse.”

Erin buries her face deeper until her arms are practically encircling her head.

Holtzmann thinks  she might be crying.

“But...but -” And then it comes to her.

_Oh._

“You were saying my name.”

The silence in the room is so deep that if Holtz weren’t in such a state of shock she would reach out her hand to try to physically feel it.

“Erin.”

Erin pulls her knee into her chest and does not look up.

“Erin, please.” Holtz slides onto the edge of the bed and looks intently at her.

“Just now...did you just...did you….?”

If Erin pretzels herself into any closer together, Holtz muses, she might fuse together permanently. So she goes for it.

“Erin Gilbert. Did you, or did you not, just have an erotic dream featuring lil ol’ Holtzy, and did you, or did you not, just ride to the very last station on the O-train in my arms as you woke up?”

Erin squeaks and peeks her head up enough so that her eyes are just visible over the tips of her fingers.

They’re so full of shame and fear that Holtzmann moves instinctively towards her only to back off as Erin squeaks again and attempts to propel herself backwards so there’s more distance between her and Holtz.

_Oh, Erin._

“And did you, or did you not,” she continues in a softer voice, “just declare feeling for me? Feelings that are absolutely mutual, I might add.”

She stretches out a hand so that it’s inches away from Erin, close enough to comfort, but not so close that it adds pressure.

With just the two of them in the half-light of the room, snow swirling against the window, the weight of what might come next between them, Holtzman finds she’s not frozen. She’s not stuck in place with her mind buzzing over her thoughts. She can think quite clearly. And her clearest thought: _be gentle with this._

“M-mutual?” Erin stutters out.

“Yeah. Mutual. Very mutual. Exponentially mutual. Positive.” She draws the graph in the air with her hand.

Erin manages a small eyeroll and unfurls from herself slightly.

“I thought you flirting with me was just, well, a joke.”

Holtzmann shrugs and grins. “What can I say?” she points to the words on her tank top.

And suddenly Erin’s laughing. And Holtz is laughing. And Erin is half crying. And she’s pulling Holtz into a hug that is all elbows and knees jabbing in the wrong places, but neither of them seems to care.

From somewhere around Holzman’s knee Erin’s muffled voice floats up. “I’d like to stop crying and kiss you now.”

They reorder their limbs and Erin pulls Holtz up further onto the bed so that they’re facing each other. Holtz reaches up and gently wipes the remaining tears off of Erin’s cheeks.

Biting her lip, Erin eyes Holtzmann carefully. “I’m...sorry I - I can’t believe I, ugh, I can’t believe I haven’t even _kissed_ you but you just saw... _that_.”

“That dream,” whispers Holtz, moving closer so that their noses are bumping. “You gonna tell me about it someday, Hot Stuff?”

“Someday,” murmurs Erin. And then they’re kissing. And it is like falling into a white, warm light. Holtzmann never wants it to end.

**______**

Erin kisses Holtzmann like she’s been thinking about it for a good long while. Open mouthed. Hot. Wet. Hungry. It makes Holtzmann’s knees tremble. But then Erin’s tongue is moving against her own and they give way entirely. She falls back against the mattress, hands moving from Erin’s face to slide up under the back of her her tank top as she pulls her down on top of her.

Erin makes a sound so filled with want that Holtz has to squeeze her eyes shut. It makes her feel a swooping sensation somewhere in her stomach like she’s missed a stair or is suddenly on a rollercoaster. Her hands travel from Erin’s shoulder blades to slide between their bodies. Erin breaks their kiss to press her mouth to Holtz’s neck, moaning when Holtz fingers move across her breasts and find her nipples.

She rocks against Holtzmann’s thigh.

“Shit, oh, shit.”

“Quite a mouth you got there tonight, Gilbert.”

Holtz can feel Erin warm and wet against her, even through Erin’s pajama shorts. She pushes her thigh up harder between Erin’s legs.

“You wait - _fuck_ \- to see - _fuck_ \- what I can fucking do with - _fuck_ \- this fucking mou-”

Suddenly Erin’s crying out into Holtzmann’s shoulder and Holtz feels the world spin out of control as Erin’s body spasms, stiffening for a moment, before she trembles apart in Holtz’s arms for the second time that night.

For a moment there’s just the sound of Erin’s ragged breathing and then -

“Uh, wow. Oh wow.” Holtzmann slides her hands out of Erin’s shirt and places them gingerly on her shaking back. She peers at Erin. “I haven’t even properly touched you yet.”

She can still feel Erin trembling against her thigh.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” Erin's voice sounds small and embarrassed from where her face is still pressed into Holtz’s shoulder.

Holtzmann strokes her back gently and grins. “Hey, hey, Erin. No, don’t be sorry. Come up for air for a minute, mkay?”

Slowly, Erin’s eyes lift to meet hers. Holtz has to bite back a gasp at how blown wide Erin’s pupils are.

“I’m not complaining. Kinda hot. Gotta say, never would have expected it from you though. Always thought you’d be the kind of girl who takes some unlacing. From tiny bowties. And the like. No offence.”

She watches Erin’s throat as Erin swallows. She’s sweaty and Holtz thinks she’s gorgeous. In an unnerving and erotically unexpected way.

“I’m not - I’ve never.” Erin stops, clears her throat, tries again. “I’ve never, um, well, I’ve never had this _happen_ with a, um, partner.”

“What, instant orgasm?”

“No, well, no, not that either. But I’ve...um. It’s never happened. At all.”

“You’ve never had an orgasm before?”

“I didn’t say that.” Erin looks cross for half a second before her features relax and she brushes her fingers across Holtz cheek with a considering expression on her face.

“I’ve never had an - um - oh, _you know_ \- _”_

“Orgasm,” Holtz supplies.

“Yes, thank you, in front of anyone before.”

Erin’s cheeks once again look like a blazing sunset.

“But you have had - you have had them?”

Erin rolls her eyes up to the ceiling and slides down so she’s lying along Holtzmann’s side.”

“ _Yes._ Why do you think I’ve been going to bed so early lately.”

Holtz turns to look at Erin so fast she gets a crick in her neck.

“Whaaaat?”

Heat from Erin’s body is rolling off her in waves, and Holtz props herself up on an elbow so that she can grin down at Erin, who now has both hands covering her eyes.

“I can’t help it,” Erin says, almost in a whisper. “I keep watching you. The way your hands look when you’re tightening something with a wrench, or soldering something, or swinging a pipe around. Or they way you dance - your hips, you move them and - all of a sudden things just keep _happening_ to me.”

“You’ve been taking naps lately too.” Holtzmann thinks her face might crack in half from grinning.

Erin groans and turns so her face is pressed against Holtzmann’s arm.

“Watching you just makes me - _feel_ \- things. And then I can’t _focus._ And I’ve been - I’ve been - why are you laughing?! Holtzmann!”

“I just never thought I’d have Dr. Erin Gilbert, professor of particle physics, running to her room to rub one out in the middle of the day over me.”

“Ew, _Holtz!_ ”

“I mean, not that I haven’t been _trying_ for this reaction. But I had no idea it was actually working.”

Erin looks up at her and her eyes look silver blue in the half-light of the lamp. “Oh, trust me, it’s been working. And trust me, this is not...normally...how I respond. To attraction. I’ve always felt, well, I suppose, you could say, frigid.” Then, quieter, “Been told that a few times as well.”

She’s tracing a pattern onto Holtzmann’s arm that makes her shiver, and Holtzmann takes Erin’s hand in her own.

“The Erin Gilbert I’ve seen is hardly frigid.”

Erin smiles a little sadly. “This isn’t how I imagined our first time would go.”

“Ooooh, you’ve imagined. During one of your,” Holtzmann releases Erin’s hand and finger quotes, “naps.”

Erin swats at Holtz’s hands and pushes her back onto the mattress, climbing on top of her.

“Yes, I’ve imagined.” She places small kisses along Holtzmann’s clavicles and Holtzmann forgets how to breathe for a moment.

“How did you think it would go?” She’s surprised by how soft her voice comes out, and how vulnerable. She tries to clear her throat but finds it’s suddenly too dry.

Erin looks up and smiles, nudging Holtz’s head to one side so that she can kiss her way up, her mouth warm on Holtzmann’s ear.

“I wanted it to be,” Erin breaths, “slow.” She takes Holtzmann’s earlobe into her mouth and brushes it with her tongue before releasing it.

“And sweet.” Her fingers slip under Holtzmann’s tank and pull it up along with Holtz until the shirt is on the floor and Erin is kissing her way back down to Holtz’s mouth.

“And deliberate.” She’s kissing Holtz. A little bit sweet. A little bit filthy. And not at all slow.

Holtz can’t keep her grin at bay and soon Erin is kissing more teeth than anything and draws back.

“What’s so funny?”

“It’s just,” Holtz brings Erin’s face close to hers and cradles it between her hands.

“You are deliberate. It’s what make you a great scientist. Killer at equations.”

She sobers and looks Erin in the eye. “From what I’ve noticed, Gilbert, you want the world to see you as deliberate and that’s not a bad thing. But sometimes it comes at the expense of this other side you have.”

Holtz blinks up at Erin. Takes a deep breath.

“A solar flare occurs when magnetic energy builds up in the solar atmosphere to such an extent that it is suddenly released.”

She brushes her thumb across Erin’s lips. Studies Erin’s wide eyes. Winks at her.

“You’re an explosion of a woman, Erin Gilbert. Powerful, and brilliant. And so bright. Glad sometimes I’ve got my safety goggles.”

Erin drops her forehead against Holtzmann’s and sighs. Her breath tickles her check.

“Thank you.” She kisses the corner of Holtzmann’s mouth and then draws back. “Does that make you my magnetic energy?”

“Only if you help me find release.”

It hangs in the air between them before Erin lunges forwards and is kissing her again, tangling her hands in blond curls before kissing her way down to suck on Holtzmann’s pulse point.

And then Erin is everywhere. Consuming Holtzmann, her hands moving to cup Holtz’s breasts, long fingers finding her nipples first, followed by her mouth.

Heat sears across Holtzmann’s skin. Lightning flashes through her from low in her stomach to straight between her legs. _Oh god._

“Erin.”

“Mmmm.”

“Oh god. Please.”

Erin slides lower and lifts her head to gaze at Holtz through her lashes.

“I’ve never done this before.” She chastely kisses the small freckle to the right of Holtzmann’s belly button and then not so chastely scrapes her teeth along the ridge of Holtzmann's hip.

“I know what feels good when I touch myself.” Her cheeks darken. Holtzmann can literally see Erin’s eyes dilating once more. “I have a theory that it’s similar for another woman, but there are always variables and variables call for a great deal of experimentation.”

“Experimentation?” Holtz chokes out.

“I’m going to touch you now. Is that okay?”

“Jesus, Gilbert. Yes.”

Erin slides the rest of the way down the bed, disposes of Holtzmann’s underwear, nudges her knees apart, drags her tongue up the inside of Holtzmann’s thigh.

“ _Fuck_. I thought by touch, it would be, you know, fingers first.”

“I told you earlier you should see the things I can do with my mouth. Well, have imagined I can do. Are you complaining?”

“Nope. Nope. Nope.”

Erin laughs but Holtzmann doesn’t. She’s too busy arching her back and gripping the sheets as Erin’s mouth meets her heat, tongue swirling and probing until Holtzmann is gripping Erin’s hair and rocking her hips in need.

The times she’s taken women to bed she’s always been intent on giving them pleasure. She’s used to the taste of a woman on her tongue, most often followed by dismissal after she’s brought them crashing over the edge. She’s good at unraveling women, but the women she unravels have never - no one has ever - not like this. Never like this.

Erin slows her tongue so that it’s working against Holtzmann in a way that Holtz knows can only come from Erin solely focusing on Holtz’s own need. It’s slow. It’s sweet. And it’s totally one hundred percent Erin-Gilbert-Deliberate.

Holtz makes a noise in the back of her throat and Erin brings her fingers down to circle Holtz’s entrance. She realizes how Erin is reading her body’s responses. Collecting data. Analyzing. She spreads her legs a little further and pushes her hips forward.

“Erin.”

Erin’s looks up, not pausing in her movement from between Holtz’s legs. Their eyes meet just as she slides two fingers slowly inside of Holtz.

“God. Oh god.” Holtz drops her head back down to the pillow and matches Erin’s next thrust. “Erin. Erin, oh fuck.”

She can feel Erin smile against her, her fingers moving in and out, twisting inside of her. It's so good, so, so good, almost perfect.

Holtzmann reaches down and grips Erin wrist, angling it slightly up until Erin's fingers find, _oh holy hell_ , they find the spot that causes Holtzmann’s thighs to shake.

“Variables,” Erin whispers, her gust of breath causing Holtz to release her wrist in favor of fisting handfuls of Erin's hair.

There’s a deep guttural noise coming up from deep inside her with every stroke of Erin's fingers, and somewhere in the back of her head Holtz knows she should feel embarrassed, but she's far too close to the edge to care.

Then Erin thrusts perfectly upwards, sucking Holtzmann’s clit into her full, hot mouth and Holtzmann is gone, exploding into nebula, and fireworks, and something akin to the birth of all stars.

**______**

For a while she can only feel the intense, pulsing beat of pleasure from her clit to her heart. She lies there between space and time until she slowly regains external sensation.

“Blig ang” she slurs and she can feel Erin move up her body to hover over her.

“Hmmm?”

“Big Bang.”

“What about it?”

“Pretty sure it's what you just did to me. And it's not just a theory.”

Erin gives a throaty laugh and Holtz manages to blink her eye open enough to gaze blearily up at her.

Her hair is mussed from Holtzmann's fists and she's slightly breathless. Holtz is infinitely sure she's never seen anything more beautiful.

“You're shivering. Are you cold?”

Erin shakes her head from where she sits astride Holtz’s stomach but her whole body trembles almost violently.

“Hey. Hey.” Holtz reaches up to cup Erin's face in her hands. “What is it?”

Letting out a shaky breath Erin shrugs her narrow shoulders up and down, leaning into Holtz’s touch.

“Just adrenaline, I guess?”

Holtz pulls her down until she's cradling her against her chest.

“You're amazing,” she whispers. “A-maz-ing.”

“Thanks,” Erin murmurs, kissing Holtzmann on the cheek the resting her chin on her temple. “You are too.”

Holtzmann leans in and kisses her, long and soft and sweet. Her hand moves to Erin's waist and squeezes before wandering it down to her thigh.

Catching Holtz's hand between her own and bringing it up to her lips for a kiss, Erin rests over her heart instead.

“Just lay with me?” She squeezes in reassurance. “Stay?”

Holtz squeezes back.

**_____**

The next morning Holtzmann wakes up to sunlight streaming in from the window, made double-bright from the reflection against the fallen snow. Her limbs are tangled thoroughly with Erin’s and she can’t keep the grin from her face.

She rolls Erin carefully over so she’s on her back and places a small kiss just to the left of Erin’s mouth. It produces a small smile, and Erin’s eyes blink sleepily open, taking in the brightness of the room and Holtzmann hovering above her.

Warm hands come up to stroke through her hair, pulling her down until they’re exchanging sleepy kisses. And then rather less sleepy kisses.

The bright warmth in the room, the quiet of the station, the way Erin’s body has started to move and press against her own, her breath coming faster - Holtzmann thinks this much be what being centered must feel like.

She kisses her way down Erin’s naked body, pausing somewhere around her belly button, arms wrapped tightly about Erin’s waist, her forehead pressed into Erin’s stomach.

Erin’s hands are in her hair again, softly, gently. They make their way down to her chin, and lift so that she looks up into Erin’s eyes.

“Alright?” Erin strokes her cheek.

Holtzmann nods, and can’t stop the words that tremble from her lips in a whisper.

“I love you.”

They sound so insignificant compared to what she’s feeling.

But Erin smiles and whispers back, “I love you, too.”

And it doesn’t seem insignificant at all.

She lunges up the bed and kisses Erin once, twice, three time, ok, maybe six, before she’s sliding back down and pulling Erin’s legs over her shoulders.

Erin gives a startled squeak but relaxes into her, moves with her, meets her attentions and cries because of them.

And it’s perfect, Holtzmann thinks. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect.

When Erin comes, it’s with a wild jerk of her hips and a shout.

“I love you,” Holtzmann whispers again against Erin’s skin, pressing hundreds of tiny kisses to her inner thigh. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

“I love you too, Jillian Holtzmann.”

She raises her eyes and looks up, meeting Erin’s gaze, and she feels the world around them fall away until it’s just the two of them, floating amongst the cosmos, dazzled by the light of a nearby sun.

Erin smiles down at her, bright, and happy, and content.

“And just for the record, this was _definitely_ part of my dream.”


End file.
